The Sleepover
by ThomE.Gemcity-06
Summary: Teenage!Wolfpack. Doug has been dating Tracy since sophomore year. Phil has an on-again off-again thing with his (future) wife. After an incident, and three-year absence from school, Alan returns to the outside world. Phil can't stem the entertaining curiosity he has to the older teen. WARNINGS Inside! (Sorry for this crappy summary!)
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer: The Hangover was not my doing, nor are the characters mine. *pout***

 **a/n: Includes pokes and winks towards THE HANGOVER Trilogy.**

 **Summary:** _Doug has been dating Tracy since sophomore year. Phil has an on-again off-again thing with his (future) wife. After an incident, and three-year absence from school, Alan returns to the outside world. Phil can't stem the entertaining curiosity he has to the older teen._  
 **(a/n: I apologize for this shitty summary.)**

 **Story Warnings/(spoilers):** Institutionalization, prescription drugs, mental illness, profanity, gun use, drug crime, slight nudity,  
 **Character Ages: Teenage!** Wolfpack **: 18!** Alan **, 16!** Tracy **, 17!** Doug, **17!** Phil, **17!** Stu **.**  
 **Pairings/(or mentioned):** Doug/Tracy, Stu/Melissa, Phil/Stephanie,

* * *

 **The ... Hangover.**

 **The Sleepover:** _Part 1_

"I don't get why we have to come—or more specifically, me." Phil complained, propping an elbow on the door's open windowsill. "Stu probably has nothing better to do, but that's nothing new."

Said spectacled geek huffed indignantly from the backseat. "What 'better' things do you have to do?"

"Literally anything."

Doug sighed patiently from behind the wheel of his parents' Preus. "Be a good friend, Phil. Do it for me?"

Phil snorted. "Don't you mean Tracy?"

Doug narrowed his eyes. "Where she's concerned, it's the same thing."

Phil shook his head sadly. "We lost you at such a young age..."

"Don't be a dick. And what about you and Stephanie?"

Phil shifted in his seat. "What about us? We fuck sometimes—more than I can say for four-eyes back there and Medusa."

"Hey!" Stu protested. "Melissa is just... very keen on what she wants."

"Whatever, man." Phil waved him off. "Next time you come to school with a black eye, just tell everyone that you walked into a door instead of saying a Jack-in-the-box surprised you—it might be a little more believable, even for yourself."

Stu groaned and palmed his forehead. "That was one time!"

"Alright, alright. Listen." Doug told them, stopping at a four-way stop sign intersection. "Just... no arguing when we get there, okay? We want a calm, welcoming environment for him. Friendly."

"So, Phil has to completely change his personality by the time we get there?"

Doug rolled his eyes before he accelerated and turned right. Sometimes, he wondered how the two were best-friends when they only seemed to insult each other.

Phil flipped him the bird before ignoring him. "God, I didn't even know Tracy had a brother until you tricked me into the car."

Stu sniggered. "Did he wag a couple of treats in front of your nose, Phil?"

"Oh, that was clever of you." Phil told him sarcastically. "What are you, five?"

"What are you," Stu mocked. "A dick?"

"At least I have one," he retorted. "With the way you scream and shriek all the time, I wonder if your name isn't really Stu-ella and that's a pair of rolled up socks in your trousers."

"I do to have a dick!" Stu shouted his protest. "You've seen it!" He heard murmuring outside his window, and turned, wide-eyed, to realize that Doug had stopped in traffic, and his shout had been heard by an elderly couple on a walk-about. His face flushed in embarrassment and he sunk down as far in his seat as his seatbelt would allow. "Please, drive." He begged. Phil laughed.

A moment later, the line at the light proceeded much to Stu's relief.

"If you two are finished?" Doug said, but he didn't wait for them to answer before he continued on. "I really need to do this for me, guys. We're family. I love Tracy, so that make her your family too. Look, Alan's the same age as we are, it shouldn't be too hard to get along. They released him because he's better—"

"Shit, you sure they should be letting him back out into civilisation after his years of captivity?" Phil looked over at him.

"He's not an animal!"

"Sure sounds like it. If your so worried about the reaction I'm going to cause, just drop me off at the corner and I'll hitch a ride home."

"Can't you do a single decent thing in your life?" Stu asked, finally straightening his body in the backseat.

"Decency hardly ups the pace. I'm a teenager; that means not giving a fuck, drinking, fooling around, and fucking! Mr. Aspirations to be a _Dentist_."

"At least I have goals in life."

"We're here!" Doug snapped, pulling into the large, cobble-stoned drive to the Garner mansion. He parked and turned the car off, but didn't get out, and instead released his seatbelt and twisted in his seat to face his two best-friends. "I am fucking serious. I need you two to do this for me, and _behave_ while doing it, alright? Say yes."

"Yes, Doug." "Yes, Mother." Were their chosen replies.

Doug sighed. "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Phil muttered. "You totally owe me, buddy."

"I'll take what I can get." Doug muttered as they all left the car and approached the front door. He pushed the doorbell.

"So, what's his deal again?" Phil asked as they waited, hands stuffed into his pockets.

"I've told you this already."

"Just... run it by me one more time. I wasn't paying attention."

"Clearly," Stu scoffed.

"We went to different middle schools than Tracy and Alan, I didn't meet her until grade ten. Well, from what Tracy told me, the summer before Alan was due for grade nine he had an episode with his swim coach. The police were called, there was a judge involved later I think and that was why they put him in the mental hospital."

Phil gave a low whistle as the front door was opened to reveal the Garner's housekeeper Blanca, looking very frazzled. "Ah, Mr. Doug. Thank Heaven's it's you!" She urged them in.

"Blanca, what's wrong?" Doug questioned, following the fast-paced Mexican.

"Holy shit," Phil muttered aside to Stu as they followed behind through the grand house. "Tracy's smart, hot, _and_ her family's loaded? Doug definitely found a Lucky Charm somewhere and never told us about it."

Stu rolled his eyes. "Of course the first thing you notice is the money."

"It's Mr. Alan. Everything was fine—and then he found out Carlos wasn't _his_ Carlos from before he was sent away." Blanca explained.

"Who's Carlos?" Stu wondered.

"The dog." Doug said.

Phil and Stu shared a looked as they were lead through a large glass sliding door at the back of the house and onto a large deck that housed a table and chairs and a BBQ; down the steps, a stone path veered off to lead to a large swimming pool with a Jacuzzi. On the opposite side was a large area of grass, adorning the area was a gazebo with a pond/fountain beside it, and a large trampoline.

"Jesus." Phil hissed at the sight. Why the hell haven't they come here before?

But the three members of the Garner family were focused on the large tree by the fence.

"Tracy!" Doug called.

The dark-haired sixteen-year-old turned at her name. "Doug!" she sighed in relief and left her father and mother. "Thank God." She enveloped her boyfriend.

"What's wrong?" Doug kept his arm around her waist. "Blanca said that Alan was freaking out about Carlos?"

"Yeah, what's the deal with Carlos?" Phil wondered.

"Honey, please come down?" Linda Garner called worriedly up to her son.

"No!" Alan shouted at her, hidden above in the tree. "I know it was you who did this, woman!"

"Carlos was hit by a car a year after Alan was sent away. Dad never had the heart to tell him. We got another dog. But when Alan got home, and Carlos went up to him... he knew instantly it wasn't _his_ Carlos."

"Holy—he pulled the goldfish move." Phil exclaimed. "A bold move, doing it with a dog and a teenager. Gotta give props to the old man."

"He got really upset." Tracy continued with a nod. "And when we tried to tell him that _his_ Carlos died while he was away—he refused to listen and grew even more agitated. There was a lot a screaming, then Carlos started to freak out with all the commotion—it literally drove Alan up the tree. He thinks Carlos is an 'impostor' and is refusing to come down. But I also think he _can't_ come down." She sighed. "He was always like this as a kid. He can climb things just fine—it's getting down that the problem."

"Jesus." Phil muttered, carding a fingers through his hair.

"It's not his fault," she defended. "He's been through a lot!"

Phil help up his hands to show his peace. "Alright. Alright."

"I put Carlos in the bathroom, but..." Tracy shrugged helplessly.

"Why don't you just call the fire department?" Stu suggested. "They get cats and stuff out of trees all the time. I'm sure they can help."

"If we call the fire department, then the police will get involved." Tracy said. "He just got released—"

"It's going to be okay." Doug assured her. "We'll figure out a way to get him down."

Stu blinked at the clear implication. "We will?"

" _Yes._ " Doug gave him a hard look. "Linda, Sid." Doug greeted familiarly as he approached the two parents.

"Oh, Dougie!" Linda turned to him with relief. "Isn't there anything you can do? He's just so determined."

"I'll try." He nodded and the parents stepped back and Doug stepped forward under the base of the tree, the others lingered back. He didn't immediately spot the red-haired teen. "Alan?"

"Doug?" Alan said brightly upon seeing him and a moment later, Doug found him high among the leaves; he almost looked like a chubby orang-utan clinging to the branches. His mouth flattened. "What are you doing here?"

"Welcoming you home, buddy." Doug said lightly. "What else?"

Doug had met Alan several times before. He and Tracy had been going out for little over two-years now, and she'd taken him with her on some of the occasions that she went to visit Alan.

Alan seemed to think about it for a moment before he finally nodded. "I assume you've been informed of the situation?"

"Yeah, Alan." Doug nodded. "About that... you're parents just didn't want to make you sad about Carlos..."

Phil groaned quietly. Doug was going to get nowhere trying to be reasonable. Couldn't they move this along? He was starting to get hungry. Wasn't he promised food? It seemed Phil To The Rescue again—Phil had two younger sisters, early middle school, grades one and two. They were at that age where they could wheedle him into almost anything—which were usually embarrassing—but sometimes, indulgence was the only answer to freedom. He hated princess tea parties. It appeared the same approach was due with Alan…

Phil came to stand next to Doug and peered up into the branches. "Hey, man."

"Who're you?" Alan wondered.

"Phil. You're Alan, right? Tracy's brother?"

"...Yes."

"Cool." Phil nodded sublimely. "What'cha doing up there?"

"... Escaping. Haven't you been paying attention to the situation, Phil? Carlos is an impostor, a clone. I'll admit, they did a good job of it. But I looked into his eyes, and there was no soul! He's an evil creature."

" _How_ d'you know he's evil?" Phil asked curiously.

Alan was silent for a very long moment. "I... guess I just assumed."

"That's low. You shouldn't judge a book by it's cover, man. You didn't even give him a chance. The other Carlos died, I'm sorry about that, buddy. But maybe this Carlos is here for you now, so you don't feel so sad about it." He took a breath, "So, what do you say about giving Carlos a second chance?"

"Do you... do you really think that, Phil?"

Doug blinked. There was a tentative trust in Alan's tone that caught him off guard. It seemed like a snap-of-the-fingers kind of connection. Alan had been suspicious of himself the first time around when he had first visited with Tracy. Phil just seemed to speak on the Alan-wavelength.

The tall teen nodded. "I do."

"Okay..." Alan allowed. "I guess even potentially evil Carlos clones deserve my appraisal."

"Great." Doug clapped his hands. "You can come down now, buddy."

"Down..." Alan frowned as he suddenly saw the distance looking down on them, when he'd been casually leaning out in his conversation with Phil. He clung to the trunk. "It's higher than I remember, Doug."

Doug sighed. "He's like a cat." He whispered to Phil.

Phil snorted. "A big ginger cat. Just the kind that firemen like."

"Just go the way you climbed up," Doug offered.

"Unh." Alan grunted nervously, but started his slow descent.

"That's it." He encouraged. "Easy now. Nice and slow."

Finally, he made it to the lowest branch. Doug and Phil stepped back as he did his leap of faith. He stumbled on the landing, but popped right up. He flicked his ruffled hair and lifted his chin.

"Okay, there, buddy?" Doug questioned, patting his shoulder.

Alan nodded and Phil got his first look at the mysterious teen. He was the same height as Doug, with dark blue eyes, and a head of shaggy russet hair. He was a little on the chubby side, with lightly paled skin.

"Oh, Sweetie," Phil cocked a brow on the fact that it was Sid who had cooed that, enveloping his son in a warm hug. Linda reached for Alan too, but the teen brushed off her touch. Phil shrugged it off and gave them their room.

"That was good thinking, Phil." Tracy approached him. "Alan has always been really gullible, that's what sent him to the hospital in the first place." She told him softy. "So thank you." She gave his hand a squeeze.

Phil shrugged, embarrassed. "It's fine. That's what friends are for, right?" But he couldn't help but wonder exactly _what_ got Alan sent away; Doug hadn't been very forth-coming on the juicy details. The teen was square like that sometimes, so sensitive.

Finally, Alan quickly grew annoyed at the affection and pushed him parents away. "I'm hungry." He proclaimed. "Can we eat now?"

"Sure, honey." Linda said. "Whatever you want." She fluttered around him like a moth.

Great, Phil agreed, glad he wasn't the only one who's thoughts were driven towards food despite the 'tense' situation.

* * *

"Thank you guys so much for being here." Tracy saw them off in the driveway several hours later. "I know you only did it because Doug, but thank you anyways. Especially you, Phil."

"Aw." Phil smirked and joked, "I always knew you secretly loved me. Why don't we ditch the monkey and run away together." Despite, or maybe because of, he hadn't had the worst time that he could have.

Doug punched him in the shoulder. "Not cool."

Tracy rolled her eyes. "Not even in your dreams, pal."

He smiled. "Fresh out of luck, asshole. Maybe we should revisit the hitchhiking thing?"

"Aw, come on! Don't be like that." Phil protested.

"It would serve you right." Stu muttered.

"What was that, four-eyes?" He cocked a brow.

Stu glared. "Dick!"

"Must we have this conversation again?" Phil said meanly.

"Jeez!" Tracy scoffed. "You two are such children sometimes. And I find it both worrisome and endearing that you're this comfortable around me."

"Don't worry," Doug said. "One day, they'll come to you dressed as a Snooki and Joni and you just won't care as much."

"Somehow, I don't find that reassuring."

Doug squeezed her hand reassuringly. "I know, yet somehow, you'll welcome it." He kissed her. "Alright, into the car... children." Doug ushered them. They both sputtered protests at such treatment, before Stu suddenly straightened, hand raised: "Shotgun!"

"What?" Phil looked at him open-mouth. "Hell no!"

But Stu made a run for it and Phil bolted after him.

Doug and Tracy ignored them and faced each other, still holding hands. "I'll call you later."

"Yeah." She nodded. "I should get back. Say goodnight to Alan; he was pretty tuckered out. It's been a long day for him."

Doug nodded. "I love you."

"I love you, too." They kissed and Tracy waved bye to the others before she headed back inside

Phil sat in the front seat, smug; and Stu was fuming.

"Why am I in the backseat?"

"Yeah, Phil. He clearly called shotgun." Doug started the car and pulled from the large drive and onto the street.

Phil leaned back comfortably. "If he wasn't such a wuss, our positions would be reversed, now wouldn't they?"

"You're such a cheater!" Stu accused. "It doesn't work like that."

"Whatever."

"Anyway..." Doug turned on the radio to drown them out.

* * *

"Hey, Alan." Tracy knocked gently on her brother's bedroom door. It was the same as it was since he was last home. "Daddy said you were up here. Can I come in?"

"Yeah!" came the call.

She opened the door and stepped inside. Only to stop and do a double-take as she saw her older brother. "Whoa, Alan. What the hell is that?"

"What?" Alan stood in the middle of his room, holding a _riding crop_. But that wasn't what made her pause—though they were going to definitely talk about what that was for later. It was what he was _wearing_ ; the only thing, really.

"Is that a..." her stomach dropped with concern. "Is that a _chastity belt_? Why do you—? I don't—Oh, Alan." Completely ignoring his nudity, she went up to him and enveloped him in a hug.

Alan eagerly hugged her back, he loved cuddles, but was confused. "What's wrong?"

Finally, she pulled back and cupped his cheeks. "Oh, Alan. I'm just so happy to have you back."

He grinned at her. "Me, too!"

She released him. "So, tell me about the... the chastity belt?"

"Oh, do you like it?" he gave a turn. "Didn't you know it protects virtue?"

 _Virginity, sexual intercourse…_ she grimaced internally."Yes, but why do you have it, how did you get it?"

"It was Eddie's idea."

"Who's Eddie?" she asked slowly, dreading the answer.

"I met him at the hospital. He's really cool and smart, and fun! He has all the ladies from his harem wear them. He has the key so only _he_ can have sex with them. He knows what he's about."

"His harem?" she repeated. "What—where's the key to yours?!"

"Oh, Eddie gave it to me when I had to leave. It's to give me power, but I think you should have it." He went to the suitcase on the bed and handed her a small chain and key. "Here. I trust you, Tracy. I know you won't try and have sex with me, especially if I don't want it."

"Right, Alan. I would never do that to you." She promised, looking down at the key in her palm. "I want you to be safe." He nodded. "And that?" she pointed at the riding crop.

He looked at her weirdly. "It's a fly swatter."

"Right." She took it. "Let's just put that here, hm? Are you going to bed, you must be tired after such an exciting day." He nodded. "Your pyjama's?"

"Oh, right. I'm not supposed to sleep naked, Dr. Hendrix said so. He said I need to create boundaries. But sometimes I forget." He pulled on some pyjama's from his suitcase. Afterward, he kicked the suitcase onto the floor.

"Alright. Did you take your pills?" He nodded. "Good, you can't forget those. Want me to tuck you in?" she questioned. He blinked at her and nodded rapidly, suddenly tears in his eyes. "Alan! What wrong?"

He gave a rough sniff and pawed the tears from his eyes. He shook his head as she guided him under the covers. "I'm sorry. I—I..."

She sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Don't be sorry." She murmured, brushing the bangs from his forehead. "I'm so happy that you're home."

They were about two-years apart in age, but had always been close siblings. She'd always been Alan's best-friend, but didn't mind it, even as she met girls at school her own age. She loved her brother and wanted him safe and happy. He'd always been a little weird and innocent, and rather gullible. He didn't understand when people lied. He _trusted_ people. She worried for him when they were younger, her being more reasonable and responsible than him, but it wasn't until _after_ that she _feared_ for him.

Linda dotted on him, but she didn't seem to have any authority over the redhead. Sid tended to indulge him. Tracy felt like the only reasonable one out of the bunch, the responsible one. But none of them had noticed that his swim coach was _grooming_ him. She shivered…

"It was nice that Doug came." He murmured and Tracy nodded. "And... and Phil? Did he say anything about me when-when you said goodbye?" Alan bit his lip.

Tracy looked down at him curiously. "He thought it was nice to meet you."

Alan beamed at that news. "I really like him, he's funny. Do you think we can hang out again?"

Of course, Alan would lean more towards Phil than Stu, who was definitely more responsible than the former. "I can ask."

"Alright."

"Goodnight, Alan." She kissed his forehead.

"Mm. Night." He closed his eyes and she looked at him for a moment.

He'd gotten older, yet he was still so innocent. Being in the hospital for the past three years hadn't changed him like she feared that it might. She'd visited him several times each week, even as their parents only did a few times a month. She couldn't stand the thought of loosing her brother like she almost had.

She stood, turned off the light and left his room, leaving the door open a crack. She released a slow breath. She was really going to have to talk with the guys, especially if they were going to be around each other more and next week when they school year started...

* * *

~ _Days Later_...

"... Okay. I love you, too. See you soon. Bye." Doug hung up the phone and returned to the living room where Phil and Stu were currently engrossed in a game of Halo on the Xbox.

"Was that your hotter half?" Phil smirked as Stu's half of the screen went black. "You just got owned!"

"Shut up!" the geek cursed and pouted, throwing the controller down. "This sucks."

"Yes, you do."

Stu glared at him. "I don't know why I even play with you. I always lose."

"Yes, you are."

"Shut up."

"So?" Phil said to Doug, as he restarted the game and started to methodically hunt down Stu's abandoned soldier.

"Tracy's coming over." Doug told him, taking up his abandoned spot on the couch between the two other teens and picking up Stu's abandoned controller.

Phil groaned. "I thought it was just going to be us guys. Didn't you just see her yesterday?"

"It was the weekend," Doug corrected as he looked through his gun's scope and followed Phil on screen before firing. Phil cursed and dove for cover. "She wants to talk."

"Talk about what?" Phil returned fire.

"Alan."

"What?" Phil turned to him, throwing his controller on the coffee table and abandoning the game. "Why?"

Doug's brow twitched in curiosity before quickly killed Phil in the game and he set the controller down. "Because I'm her boyfriend. You're my friends, _and_ hers. And it's her brother, for God's sake. He really enjoyed having us over at his welcome home party."

Phil rolled his eyes. "I'm pretty sure the guy would love a Hello Kitty party same as my little sisters, after he finally got released from the nuthouse. What does that have to do with us?"

"Don't call it that." Doug admonished. "And that's what she wants to talk about."

"Oh. Well, now I'm interested." The dirty details that he'd wanted since that weekend Doug forced him to go to that lame party, even as entertaining as Alan had been. It had been an on-again off-again private amusement for him in his bored moments, which were frequent.

Stu shook his head in disgust. "You would be."

Phil snatched up the controller from the table and restarted the game. "I'm going to find you, Stu. And stab you with a Combat Knife, okay."

"Not if I kill you first!" Stu grabbed the second controller and Doug sighed heavily, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he leaned back and watched them try and kill each other as he waited for Tracy to arrive.

The doorbell rang and Doug was all too glad to leave the chaos of the living room to answer it.

"Hey." Doug's mood brightened completely upon seeing his girlfriend.

"Hi." Tracy kissed her boyfriend pleasantly, a tote bag looped in her arm before she had to get down to business.

"Can I take a whirl?" Phil stood, leaning against the living room doorway.

Doug pulled back from kissing his girl to glare at the other teen. "How many times do I have to tell you to keep your mitts and thoughts off my girlfriend?"

Phil gave him a picture look. "I was talking about you, buddy." He winked.

To say Doug was unprepared for that for that sparking joke was inadequate. Tracy thought it was quite funny.

She snorted inelegantly. "Oh, that's absolutely beautiful."

Phil grinned as he stepped forward and pushed Doug aside, looping an arm around Tracy's shoulder. "I knew you'd come around, it was only a matter of time."

"Hey!" Doug protested.

"Still not even in your dreams, Phil." Tracy said, but allowed herself to be guided to the living room.

"Tracy." Stu nodded to her from the couch, all too glad to turn the game off. It was embarrassing how badly Phil was creaming him.

She waited for them to all settle on the couch, before he sat on the edge of the coffee table, in front of them, but directly across from Doug. She set her bag at her feet.

"Alright." Tracy started. "So—"

"Are there pictures?" Phil wondered, eyeing the corner of an album poking from her bag.

"Phil!" Doug smacked his arm.

But Tracy sighed. "Yes, I have pictures." Phil grinned smugly at his friend. She pulled the photo album from her bag and set it on Doug's knees. Phil went to take it but had his hands smacked away. Doug took control of the pages and Phil and Stu were forced to lean over in order to look. "This is Alan before he was sent away to the hospital… Alan loved to swim. Dad even got him a personal coach… Mr. Chow. He was on the school team and went to the competitions in other cities. He won medals..."

They found a red-haired preteen, with a big smile and bright dark blue eyes, tan skin and a slim, swimmers build. He was hardly an individual in the group photo with the swim Speedo, goggles and swim cap, but off, his red hair was an easy find. Four pages were crowded with ribbons and metals alone.

"Alan always had admiration and respect for his coach." She said bitterly. "Looked up to him, trusted him with everything, took his every word and instruction to heart. He spent more time with the man than kids his own age. But there was no thought on it. There was nothing _suspicious_ about it. Alan loved to swim and Chow was his coach. Their spending time together wasn't untoward." Tracy paused but not for effect, to gather herself. "But the summer before he was meant to go to high school, the _truth_ came to light."

"What happened that summer?" Stu questioned in a hushed tone, when the girl didn't continue.

Tracy's expression was stone. "The reason why Alan was his favourite pupil, the reason... he was _grooming_ Alan. He... _violated_ him—"

"Holy shit!" "Oh my God!" "Jesus!" The three teens cried their horror.

"Alan was molested?!" Stu covered his mouth, looking sick.

"Oh, God!" She looked at them wide-eyed. "No! Alan wasn't... _raped_ —"

"Jesus, Tracy!" Phil protested. "Choose your words more carefully."

"I'm sorry! That's just the words that the officers used." She shook her head rapidly. "Chow used Alan as a **drug mule**. Alan had frequent competitions out of city that included a plane rides, Chow used him to traffic drugs."

"Like, inside of him?" Stu questioned, squeamishly. (And that was why his aspirations only went as high as dentistry).

"Duh, inside of him, Sherlock." Phil said scornfully. "They packed the drugs into little balloons that were either swallowed and shoved up the..." at Doug's look he quickly altered his word, " _hm-hm_."

"How would you know that?"

"Don't you watch TV?"

"It was classified as child molestation and endangerment—and technical statutory rape... because of how the drug balloons were transported. He swallowed them, and then—" She managed. She shook her head. "Alan didn't understand that it was bad, that adults weren't supposed to do that to children. That _he_ was a child; sweat, innocent, and all too trusting of his coach's word!" tears filled her eyes and Doug abandoned his white-knuckled grip on the edge of the album and grasped her hands.

"Tracy,"

"It—I'm okay." She whispered, squeezing his hands back. "Alan had been acting off that summer, different... his coach _put_ things, _left_ them... inside. He insisted on swimming that day, pushing through his discomfort. And then suddenly, he wasn't swimming anymore... and there was blood in the pool. Daddy managed to get him out, alerted to Carlos' barking. The a-ambulance took him to the hospital and that when we f-found out that something was incredibly wrong. A balloon had gotten stuck and ruptured. He nearly overdosed and died! The police were called... Alan refused to talk about who'd done it to him, said he wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Mom and Daddy were questioned, _I_ was questioned." She sobbed. "Eventually, they connected it to his coach... but what that seemed to do to Alan—he just grew more and more confused and anxious and angry, he was wired out of his head from the drugs. He didn't seem to grasp the truth from what had happened to him, that it was _wrong_ —because he was _taught_ that it wasn't. He loved Chow. He snapped, _broke_. He cost the hospital thousands of dollars in damages. The doctors had to pin him down and shoot him full of drugs to sleep. The next morning, all the papers were signed and he was admitted..."

The silence between the four of them was deafening. No longer was Alan the rich teenager who couldn't take the pressure and had a breakdown and was committed—just one in a long list of many. No, Alan was...

Phil stared down at the album that Doug had thrust into his lap, looked at the picture of a thirteen-year-old Alan Garner, still wet, smooching on a gold medal for the camera, his gaze directed at the man belonging to the arm looped around his shoulder, but the picture had been deliberately cut to omit the owner. This did not look like a kid who was going through that horror story that Tracy had described. It looked like a kid who just had the day of his life. The Alan he'd seen on the weekend did not appear to be the victim of what Tracy described. He seemed more like a survivor to Phil.

"So," she sniffed, clearing her throat. "When I told Alan I was coming to see you guys, he really wanted to come, but daddy had to take him to an appointment. But he was adamant that I asked you," she omitted the part where he said: _especially_ _Phil,_ "If you wanted to have a... sleepover this weekend before school starts."

Silence met her question. What an awkward turn.

"A sleepover." Phil repeated, the first to speak up. Unable to understand his own muddle of emotions, he reverted to his baser state. "What are we, ten?"

Stu rolled his eyes tiredly; feeling emotionally exhausted after just _hearing_ the story. "Do you not know your own age? What's the problem, we used to do it all the time."

"Yeah... when we were ten!" Phil snapped the album closed and shoved it on the coffee table next to Tracy. "I have to go." He stood and carded his fingers through his hair. "I'll talk to you guys later..."

"What do you mean—Phil!" Tracy stopped Doug as he attempted to stop their friend.

"Let him go." She shook her head. "He needs to process. It's a lot to take in."

"Um," Stu awkwardly piped up, too. "I think I should go, too. Text me later with the details?"

Doug nodded and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. "See you later, buddy."

"Bye, Tracy."

And then it was just the two of them. Doug turned back to his girlfriend. "Are you going to be alright?"

She nodded as he kissed her palm. "Yeah. I just worry about him, you know? He still seems the same, innocent and playful—and then it just seems like the weight of the world is on his shoulders." She sighed.

"I'm here for you, always." He promised her. "Stu and I will be there, and we'll drag Phil's ass there if we have to."

* * *

The rest of the week, Doug and Stu tried to get a hold of Phil. They called, texted, went to his house... but the playboy teen was incognito. He refused to talk with them, to show his face after Tracy told them about Alan's past. Phil had been shocked and sickened. He didn't expect to be affect like this, certainly not to this degree. He tried to rationalize that drug trafficking had to be better than if Alan's coach had been _raping_ him, but when he got home from Doug's and looked it up on the internet, his feelings weren't assuaged.

If Alan had gone through even some of the things he had come across, Phil didn't understand how he could be like he was at the welcome home party the weekend before. Sure, he was weird and a complete child—none of which pointed towards his dark past.

Phil had led such a dumb and innocent childhood—while at the same moment, across town, _that_ was happening to Alan. Phil hadn't cared about anything. He had Doug and Stu to pal around with and sneak out to parties with to smoke weed and drink beer. He had Stephanie, with whom he couldn't admit to himself or her, that he was totally in love with her—even though he knew he was close to losing her. He was mean, arrogant, a prick. He didn't care or know what he wanted to do or be. He was completely and utterly selfish, didn't give a shit—he was a 'dick' as Stu called him, but that was still too gentle a word.

"Fuck," he muttered and went to his bedroom closet.

[tbc]

* * *

 **The … Hangover**

 **Note:**

 **So, there's the first chapter. Originally, I was going to do it in one long one-shot, but have since decided that I was going to break it down into Chapters, and I thought this might be a good place to end this part. This fic came to me in the wanting of Alan being a teenager and on a swim team (yeah… don't know exactly where I'm taking this yet either).**

 **The roles of Eddie and Chow were originally switched (don't ask me about the chastity belt). And/So, don't worry, Chow did not rape or molest Alan. It was just considered molestation (and of course, endangerment) (Don't know if it would be considered that in real life) because the balloons were swallowed and then shat out and he was a child.**

 **So, tell me your thoughts so far. Until then, I'll keep chipping away at the next chapter!**

 **y**


	2. Part 2

**Disclaimer: The Hangover was not my doing, nor are the characters mine. *pout***  
 **Includes pokes and winks towards THE HANGOVER Trilogy. And some mentions of (/spoilers for) "The Transformers" movies.**

 **a/n: Sorry it took so long for an update, but finally here it is. I also found something to do with the Chastity belt so I'm pretty happy about that! :)**

 **Story Warnings/(spoilers):** Institutionalization, prescription drugs, mental illness, profanity, 'gun' use, crime, slight nudity, near-drowning

—

 **The ... Hangover**

* * *

 **The Sleepover:** _Part 2_

Doug had agreed to the sleepover with Alan, and of course, so had Stu, but the Garner son couldn't help but feel sad and disappointed that Phil gave no response.

Then came Friday...

Blanca looked worn-out as she answered the door and Phil wondered if this was her usual state or only since her hands had been full on Alan's return. "Oh, Mr. Phil, Mr. Alan will be so happy! Come in, come in." She ushered him in. "I take those." She took the backpack from his shoulders and the sleeping bag tucked under his arm that he had recovered from the back of his closet. It was a fucking sleepover, right? "They're in the playroom."

"Playroom?" Phil muttered, and wondered what he was getting himself into as he followed Blanca's directions. He took his time, picking his way through the house, up the stairs and was reminded just how loaded the Garner family was.

Their voices reached him before he reached the... playroom.

"It's called Black Market Organ Pilfering." Alan's voice drifted to the hall, and Phil paused next to the cracked door curiously.

"W-What?" Stu questioned.

"Black Market—"

"No-no." Stu waved his hand. "I know what you said, but isn't this just a Operation's game?"

"Stu, look." Doug said kindly in a slightly strained voice. "The box lid says: Black Market Organ Pilfering..."

"What?" Stu sputtered. "But he—that's just black marker!"

"Where's your imagination, Stu?" Alan rolled his eyes dramatically. "Simple surgical operations, any old kid can do that—"

"No. You definitely have to have a PhD to do that—legally."

"Legally?" he snorted. "That just means less money."

"Alan, isn't there anything else we can play?" Doug reasoned.

"You guys are no fun!" Alan pouted. "I bet Phil would be into this."

"I'm totally game for illegal Black Market Organ Pilfering," Phil pushed the door open and leaned coolly against the doorjamb.

Alan gasped pleasantly, "Phil!"

"The one and only." Phil grinned.

Doug raised a brow and cross his arms over his chest from where he sat in a beanbag chair. "I thought you weren't coming."

Phil shrugged. "I was busy. You need to branch out your social ladder a little more—it's annoying having the pair of you tug on my sleeve every five minutes."

Stu scoffed. "See if we care so much next time."

He ignored them and turned to Alan. "So, what's the going rate for Black Market Organs these days?"

"High, Phil. High." And Alan pulled a large wad of cash from his pocket.

"Oh, I like this game even more now." Phil rubbed his hands together. "I call first slice."

Alan laughed as Phil sat opposite him at the 'operating table'.

* * *

"You know, I'm thinking about my future right now." Phil said, sprawled back at an impossible angle on one of the beanbag chairs that he had shoved Stu from and claimed for himself at the final end of Black Market Organ Pilfering, all said organ's pilfered, and found himself with his new wad of money (for which he was not giving back to Alan, no matter the stink eyes Doug and Stu gave him. He'd won it fair and square; had it been Monopoly Money they wouldn't have given a shit.) "My new aspiration."

"Really?" Stu asked warily, scenting some kind of trap at his friend's smug reflection. He was seriously irked, forced to the floor by a cheap attack.

"Yeah," Phil smirked, waving himself leisurely in a showy manner with his wad of cash, taunting. "I think I'm going to go to medical school—and then there'll be a _real_ doctor in the group."

Stu gritted his teeth. "A Dentist _is_ a real doctor!"

Phil simply murmured in continued thought, "Maybe I'll get into the Black Market business. If today's shown me anything, it's very lucrative."

"Maybe you can take up a hobby, too." Doug suggested.

Phil raised his head, blinking at his dark-haired friend in confusion. "What?"

"A hobby," he repeated in a friendly tone, though the glint in his usually same toned eyes were not as. "For when you're in prison... after you're arrested—for selling organs on the Black Market!"

Phil pouted, but tucked his wad into his pocket. "A guy can dream."

"Try something a little less jail worthy next time." Doug told him dryly. "Great first attempt, though."

Stu snickered into his hand and Phil shot him a glare. The spectacled teen pointedly turned his gaze away and found the red-haired teen where he was cuddle in the corner, in the legs of a large stuffed animal of a giraffe that eclipsed the corner of the room. "So, where're your parents?" Stu wondered. "I would've thought they'd be reluctant letting you out of their sights after they just got home."

"Tracy helped me convince them to take off." Alan answered, snuggled in the embrace of his giraffe. Sid had gotten him it when he was a little boy. They were elegant, pensive, and tall creatures; things that _he_ always aspired to be since he was little and first saw them at the zoo. It was his safe space. "They're at the Yatch Club."

Phil rolled over on his beanbag and started to rifle through the literal toy chest next to him.

"And Tracy?"

"She promised to stay out of the way as long as I promised not to do anything... untoward." Alan snorted.

 _How long is that going to last?_ the same question went through both Doug and Stu's minds as they shared a look. They remember easily how just last week at the welcome home party, Alan had insisted on helping Sid with the barbeque and it ended up in the Jacuzzi. And now...

"Shit. Hey, is this what I think it is?" Phil exclaimed excitedly. He turned from the chest, standing, with a—

"Is that a gun?!" Stu demanded, back peddling.

Phil snorted and rolled his eyes. "It's not a _real_ gun, idiot. It's a Nerf gun..." he inspected it, turning the plastic weapon round in his hands. It did look pretty realistic though, and it definitely had heft. "It's that new model,"

Alan craned from the arms of Jerry (that's what he called his giraffe), to see Phil. "Oh, no. That's real."

"What?" Phil startled at the statement, jerking around to the red-haired teen—And the gun dropped from his hands.

There was a loud bang, and Stu shrieked, clutching his arm and falling to the floor.

"Oh, my God!" Doug quickly went to him.

"Holy fuck!" Phil shouted, pale, looking at his felled friend—and the _red_.

"Stu, are you okay? Stu?" Doug demanded. He looked at the splattered red and knew something was off.

Stu whimpered, hand clutching the his arm, the red covering his sleeve. His racing heart too panicked, his mind too frazzled to realize...

"9-1-1..." Phil mumbled, in shock, fingers in his hair. "Ambulance..."

And Alan started laughing. "It's fine. It's alright." He clambered from Jerry's embrace as they all stared at him dumbly. "It's just a paintball gun, guys. See?" he picked up the fallen gun from the floor, and, at the table where he disingenuous shoved aside the abandoned board of Black Market Organ Pilfering, dismantled the gun with ease and precision. "Look." He showed them the discharged ammo, a red paintball pellet. "Your reactions were classic!"

"That's not funny, Alan!" Doug barked. Alan shrugged. "Stu? Stu." He shook his taller friend.

"I-I'm alive?" Stu questioned.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're alive." Stu breathed shakily as he finally released his shoulder and Doug helped him sit up. Doug pulled up the paint-stained sleeve and already a vivid, round bruise was forming on the pale flesh. "It's just a bruise. And paint."

Phil just sat heavily on the floor where he stood. He carded fingers through his disarrayed hair. "God, talk about scared straight. My heart is racing, I think I had a heart attack."

"You?" Stu huffed, his mouth twisted. "I was shot!"

 _"*Oh Dios mío_." Blanca gasped a fast prayer in Spanish as she stood in the doorway upon the scene, hand over her rapidly beating heart.

There was a tap on the table beside him, and Phil glanced over to see a orange pill bottle there that wasn't before. He glanced at Alan, who nodded at it. He reached out with lightly trembling fingers and picked it up. _Diazepam_. He quickly screwed off the lid and tossed one back dry.

* * *

A little bit later, the four convened to the backyard. Alan sat in the grass, watching, Carlos panting away and laying between his legs. Doug stood next to Stu in the yard, and about ten-feet across from them stood Phil, who was pumping himself up.

"Alright. Let's go." Phil said. He was shirtless, because there was no way he was getting shit on his shirt. Sure, he knew it would hurt more without even the thin layer of material between his skin. But shit. "God help you, Price, if you miss my arm."

"I got it." Stu raised the paintball gun, taking a steadying breath. "Just hold still—" Phil shot him a nasty glare at that. It was decided, accident or not, Stu got to shoot Phil in return.

"What are you guys doing?" Tracy demanded, finally returning home to come upon this scene in the backyard. She'd thought that she could leave them for a few hours at least, especially with Doug there to even out everyone else's insanity—but there was her dear boyfriend, acting the referee.

Surprised, Stu jolted. The gun fired and he flinched.

"FUCK!" Phil screamed, paint splattered on his toned chest. He bent briefly, touching the sharp sting in his chest before he straightened. "Jesus, what the hell?"

"I-I'm sorry." Stu blurted, frantic as Phil charged towards him, furious. "She surprised me. I didn't—"

Phil grabbed the gun and turned it on the teen. Stu gave a high yelp and dove out of the way. The gun went off, missing it's intended target and hitting—

"Oh, my God, Tracy!" Doug bolted for the teen. Tracy stood stock-still on the porch, the bag held at her chest in her arms, covered in red paint. "Tracy?" he touched her shoulder.

Her brow twitched and then her gaze turned furious. "Hold this." She shoved the bag into her boyfriend's confused arms and stalked into the yard.

Phil eye's widened and he started to back away, but the girl was already upon him. She snatched the gun from his hands. He scrambled back. She fired.

"Aah!" Phil cried out. "Tracy! It was an accident!" he turned-tail and ran. He didn't care if it was humiliating—he wanted to live, damn it! "I was aiming for Stu!"

"Aim better next time!" she said. She didn't follow him, but instead levelled the gun—Alan wasn't the only Garner who knew his way around a paintball gun—tracking Phil as he zigged across the yard.

Stu was still cowering on the lawn. Doug watched from the deck, the soiled bag held to his chest. Alan hugged Carlos and watched with great entertainment; he knew having Phil here was going to be the awesomest!

Finally, she fired the second shot, nailing the playboy right in the ass; the hunter felling the fleeing prey. Phil yelped and tumbled, sprawling on the yard, groaning. He'd been shot—three times!

Satisfied, she lowered the gun and returned to the porch. Gun still in hand, she only paused briefly by Doug to retrieve the bag and went back into the house, leaving the other's to deal with the aftermath of the slaughter.

Doug quickly followed her. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Oh, that. And more."

"Hey," he said and she paused at his tone. He kissed her. "That is very sexy." She grinned.

* * *

After they had all cleaned up from their gun-'scepades, Tracy served them punishment by making them sit around the table for dinner, cartons of Chinese takeout scattered the expanse of the tabletop at Alan's insistence. Tracy would have thought the dexterity of constantly playing video games would have given the boys the nimbleness to handle chopsticks, but only her, Alan and Doug managed.

Of course, Phil made a jibe to Stu able not being able to handle dental tools if he couldn't even work chopsticks; and Stu fired back quickly with a glare that Phil's being a Black Market Organ thief was just as easily going down that drain. Tracy shot a questioning look at Doug beside her, but he just gave her a look that said she'd probably rather not know and don't worry about it.

She found it all quite peaceable, and was happy that Alan had found people who didn't seem to mind his weirdness—he needed this normalcy of just 'being with the guys' after three years in that place. Joking back and forth with each other... until Alan launched the first flick of chicken chow mien across the table at Phil and she released them with a stern "Alright," before a food fight could break out (one that she wouldn't, nor would she make Blanca clean up).

It was dark outside and definitely time for a movie marathon; Transformers!

("Are you sure, Alan?" Tracy questioned. "You know how upset they make you."

"Upset?" Phil muttered.

"Optimus Prime," was all she whispered. But Alan was firm in his choice.)

Sleeping bags were laid out, prime spots struggled over. Soda, popcorn, chips, candy, ice cream—it was a sugar and junk food addicts home shop. Tracy and Doug snuggled on the L-shaped couch, while Phil, Alan, and Stu sprawled on the floor...

And Megatron punched through and tore out Optimus' Allspark—

"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuh!"

"What the hell?" Phil exclaimed, jumping.

"Oh, Alan!" Tracy left Doug on the couch and hugged her brother, trying to sooth him. He stared straight at the large television screen, his cry of anguish clashing with the screams of Sam Witwicky's.

"Is he all right?" Stu asked, open-mouth and staring wide-eyed.

"He's going to be alright, soon, I promise." She petted his messy red-hair. Finally, Alan's high-pitched wail of despair at the Autobots's leader's demise subsided and he was left sniffling at his sister's comfort. He nodded and they continued to watch the movie, Tracy went back and cuddled with Doug.

Then they were in the desert and the Decepticons were attacking the humans and Autobots... and Sam died for an intense moment...

Phil glanced aside at Alan, who let out a squeak of protest and was tense, but then he gasped in relief just as Sam did. Pretty soon the credits were rolling, and then the next movie was put in and the one after that, and there were a bunch of tense moment throughout—for which Alan was reactant for them all. The forth movie was inserted...

Stu was totally passed out, Tracy and Doug must've disappeared. Phil didn't ever remember seeing this one—no Sam Witwicky, but Mark Wahlberg—but when something particularly intense happened and he didn't hear a verbalized reaction from Alan, he pulled his eyes from the screen to see the sleeping bag next to him empty.

He cursed quietly. "Alan?" he hissed, but there was no way the teen would be able to hear him over the sick battle happening right now. He looked at Stu, sprawled out, mouth gaped and drool down his chin. He'd look for the older teen in a minute but first... he found a marker (grinning wickedly that it was permanent) and did a doodle real fast—on his unsuspecting friend's face. The geek should have known better: he who falls asleep first gets a dick drawn on their face— and a uni-brow and Hitler-stach just for added kicks, why not some Harry Potter glasses, too.

Sniggering, Phil capped the marker and left the movie to play, abandoning the den in search of his new buddy. He probably got lost for a minute in his dark surroundings, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone. He had no idea where the fuck Alan would go. His room? So he headed for the stairs, but his path was cut off by the yellow Lab bolting down the hall towards the back of the house, his nails clacking on the hardwood. Phil shrugged and followed the dog—since that welcome home party the previous week, it appeared that Alan and the 'clone' Carlos had made up.

His attention was drawn from the empty kitchen when Carlos disappeared through the _open_ sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard. Carlos bolted into the yard and Phil stepped out onto the deck. Alan's voice floated to him even before he found the teen.

"...I know I shouldn't have called... I'm eighteen now! ... I looked it up. That makes me an adult... You won't get in trouble, I promise... I can to be smart sometimes... Ah, that sweet!... Can I come see you?... Oh, Okay... Night-night. Love you, too, Leslie."

Phil found Alan and his eyes widened. "What the fuck, Alan?" he exclaimed before he could stop himself. The red-haired teen was cast in light and alternating shadow from the lit pool—from where he stood perfectly perched on the edge of the diving board overhanging the pool.

"Aah!" Alan through the cell phone in his hand as far away from himself as he possibly could and it plunked a short distance away in the pool, sinking harmlessly to the bottom. He jerked towards Phil, who still stood on the deck and quite forgot exactly where he was. His foot slipped and he flailed briefly, before there was a large splash.

"Shit! Alan?" Phil jumped from the deck and to the side of the pool, watching worriedly at the writhing form under water, before he shot up, splashing, sputtering, and coughing. "Alan? Are you alright?"

But his questioned seemed to be answered, when Alan started to sink under again. Wasn't this kid supposed to be a swimmer? "Fuck. Alan!" Alan managed to pop to the surface again. "Swim! What the hell are you doing?" he ran to the other side of the pool, where Alan was closest, reaching, almost, able to grab him.

"To heavy!" Alan managed, and then he started to sink again. "I think I'm drowning, Phil!"

Cursing again, Phil jumped into the pool. He quickly swam the short distance in the deep end of the pool to Alan and grabbed his arm, kicking him to the surface. "Kick!" he barked at the older teen, dragging him as the red-head preformed a rather damaging doggy-paddle over to the ladder at the side of the pool.

Phil shoved Alan up the ladder first, before following. They both collapsed, soaking wet, at the side of the pool, catching their breaths.

"Aren't you a competition winning swimmer?" Phil demanded, his worry making him sound harsh. "Why the hell didn't you swim to the edge of the fucking pool?"

Alan flicked the dripping bangs from his eyes. "Clearly, I'm not wearing the proper swim-wear, Phil."

Phil blinked at him in confusion. "What?" he was wearing a pyjama set, what possibly could be dragging? He'd done just fine himself.

What Phil didn't know, was that Alan was still in his security phase, and the chastity belt was not something to trifle with. It was the real deal in its sexual preventative, fortified and weighty. Clearly, not made for swimming.

Alan stood and started for the deck. A moment later, Phil followed, shaking his head. "Alan, what the hell?" Phil exclaimed and quickly shielded his eyes as Alan just started to strip right then and there. "What are you doing?"

"My clothes are wet." Alan explained simply. "I've seen it on the Discovery Channel... you can catch hypothermia. So you take off your clothes and exchange body heat."

"Wha—Just go into fucking the house!"

Alan paused. "Huh."

After a moment of silence, Phil slowly uncovered his eyes to find a pair of wet pyjamas piled on the deck and a lot of pale skin standing in the doorway. He was opened mouth and clearly staring, despite how awkward and weird and whatever the fucking else it was, because what the fuck? Was that a—

"Carlos!" Alan snapped, and a moment later, Carlos ran onto the deck and pushed through Alan's bare legs. He cocked his head at his friend. "Phil, you coming?

"Yeah..." Phil blinked rapidly and made a point of keeping his gaze above Alan shoulders as he dazedly followed the naked—mostly?—teen—because what the fuck was his still wearing? Not that Phil wasn't thankful, because it covered Alan's junk and saved him from at least that scarring nightmare, but the rest was still just pretty out there. Phil might be in shock.

Phil started as Alan gave him some towels before disappearing up the stairs. Phil didn't even realized he'd stopped walking. There was a puddle of pool water at his feet. He managed to snapped out of it, clean up the mess, dry himself enough not to drip a trail through the house, grab his bag from the den, sequester into the half-bath down the hall, and change into some shorts and a tee that he was going to wear tomorrow.

By the time he was finished and went back to the den for lack of anything else better to do or be, Alan had already returned. He was dressed in a pair of stripped bottoms and a baggy shirt with a wolf howling. He lay on his sleeping bag, his feet kicked up in the air, hugging a bowl of half-eaten popcorn as he watched the (rewound) movie intently. Phil paused in the door, because did he imagine that entire thing? But the soggy clothes in his bag were proof that it did. He dropped his bag at the corner with Stu and Doug's and flopped down on his sleeping bag next to Alan. Alan glanced at him briefly, giving him a sweet grin before turning back to the movie.

Too many thoughts were going through Phil's mind for him to pay attention to the movie and hold any of the details in the story; despite how interested he had been before. Alan had been talking on a cell phone, obviously in secret, to someone named Leslie; his girlfriend? Definitely had to been older from the way things sounded. Did he meet her while he was at the hospital and that was why he was being so secretive?

Stu slept on obliviously. Finally, the credits rolled and Phil was too exhausted to even turn it off. Alan was just starting to snore beside him.

[tbc]

* * *

 **The ... Hangover**

 **End Note: Told you I found something to do with the Chastity belt, yay! And as you all very well know, Chow's first name is Leslie. Let's see where this takes us, hm?**

 **y**


	3. Part 3

**Disclaimer: The Hangover was not my doing, nor are the characters mine. *pout***  
 **Includes pokes and winks towards THE HANGOVER Trilogy.**

 **a/n: Here's the final part, enjoy!**

 **Story Warnings/(spoilers):** Institutionalization, prescription drugs, mental illness, profanity, 'gun' use, drug crime, slight nudity, near-drowning, pornography, mild violence, course language,

 **The ... Hangover**

* * *

 **The Sleepover:** _Part 3_

Phil sighed in his sleep. There was a flash behind his eyelids and he groaned, throwing an arm across his eyes to stave off the coming morning. Five more minutes! But it was the suppressed giggle that woke him up.

He let his arm drop and cracked open his eyes. He looked around the dimly lit den and remembered the sleepover and everything else that came along with it. The paintball gun. The pool. The... _thing_ Alan had been wearing... "Ugh." He muttered.

"Finally up, sleepy-head?" Alan was sitting on his knees on his sleeping bag, facing Phil, something orange in his hands.

Phil attempted to lurch forward into the sitting position, but he only managed to somehow make it half-way up before the move was aborted and he flopped to the side.

There was a shriek of indignantly, anger, and embarrassment down the hall and Phil knew that Stu had looked in the bathroom mirror.

"Heh." Phil rubbed the rest of the sleep from his eyes. God, it was going to suck having to wake up at 7 for school five times a week starting Monday.

Alan laughed too. "I totally took photo's of Stu with my cell." He held up an orange-coloured slid phone, grinning. He held it at an angle so that Phil could easily see from his slumped position.

Phil laughed. He was totally posting those on his Facebook Page. But then he blinked at the cell phone, "Weren't you talking on this last night?"

"Are you kidding? This has over sixty-apps—this is my life's work!" Alan told him seriously, hugging the phone to his chest. "I would never be so reckless." He'd had this since he was a kid, but when he was inside the hospital, he wasn't allowed to have it. Phone calls were a privilege and had to be monitored. But at three years in that place, he'd met people like Eddie, and he'd gotten that burner phone. It was very top-spy stuff, which was always fun. He was going to have to find some other way to make contact with Leslie. He was determined to see his friend.

"Yeah, but wasn't that your phone sitting at the bottom of the pool?" Phil questioned, he managed to sit up and leaned back on his palms, the TV at his back.

"No. That was a secret phone. Tracy can't know. She'll be so mad!" his eyes were wide with worry. She would be absolutely furious if she found out that he was trying to talk to his old coach.

What the hell? A secret phone to go with his secret girl. Jeez, Alan was starting to have more game than he was. "So you said: you're eighteen now, they can't stop you. It's cool that you have an older girl." Phil shrugged.

"Girlfriend?" Alan repeated and then chuckled, shaking his head. "No. Leslie's not my g—"

"Awake, I see." Tracy greeted the playboy teen crisply from the stairs of the den, her arms crossed over her chest. Doug stood behind her at her shoulder, looking somewhat scolding. They were both dressed and completely awake.

He blinked and glanced over at Alan, who seemed to be dressed now, too. In a pair of cut-off jean-shorts and a Sea World tee. Huh. "Yes. Good morning to you, too. What's up?"

She cocked a brow. "Did you have a nice swim? Tire you out, huh?"

Alan's dark blue gaze darted between the two, like a dog following a ping-pong match.

Phil's eyes widened slightly. How the hell did she find out? "W-what?"

"Yeah." She nodded. She kicked his bag at the bottom of the stair. "Clothes a little wet?" He gulped. "Alan could have died, Phil!"

"It wasn't my fault," Phil sputtered out a protest. It was half his fault, sure; he startled the kid. But the other half belong to Alan who decided it was mighty fine fucking idea to have a phone call on the edge of a diving board! Who does that? "... he was wearing metal underwear!"

"Yeah." Tracy sighed, some of the steam coming out of her at the admission. "After I found out about the _near-drowning_ I made him take that off." Tracy said.

"She gave me this instead." Alan chirped up and there was a loud piercing whistle that had the other teens cringing until Phil smacked the whistle from Alan's mouth. It spun around the chain on his neck to hang between his shoulder blades as the others sighed in relief like they were all hungover and Alan was the toddler with the pots and pans. It took a moment for the redhead to right the whistle chain, but he was grinning. "It's more fun!"

"I'm happy for you, Alan." Phil said dryly. Alan beamed. Phil couldn't help but sigh and smile a little.

"Phil!" Stu screamed, steaming down the stairs, past the couple. He breathed heavily, red-faced with water droplets still dripping from his chin.

"Stu, what happened?" Tracy asked.

"Phil drew... on my face."

Phil shrugged and smirked, admiring his handy-word. It was clear that Stu had attempted to wash that marker from his face with marginal and varying degrees of success. His skin was a raw red. His own glasses obscured the spectacles that Phil had drawn, and it was clear that he put most of his effort into scrubbing away the penis and Hitler-'stache; the latter of which could appear as nothing more than a smudge, with the former still having a little more form.

"You fell asleep first. You know what happens."

"That was when we were kids!" Stu protested. "We're practically adults now!"

"Kids enough to still be having a sleepover though, apparently." Phil reasoned slyly. "You even said that yourself. Rules still apply."

Stu fumed and cursed. He always fell asleep first, god damnit! But it was his own damn fault that he thought Phil might have grown even a little since the last time they had a sleepover.

"Alright!" Doug clapped his hands, breaking Stu's glare and Phil's flippancy.. "Who's hungry? Blanca's breakfast smells amazing."

Alan climbed to his feet and squeezed passed the couple on the stairs. "It's called brunch, Doug. It's too late for breakfast and too early for lunch. Everybody knows this."

"Well," Doug looked at his girlfriend. "You learn something new every day, I guess." Tracy and Doug followed her brother up.

Phil shoved the sleeping bag aside and climbed to his feet. He was already wearing what he was going to wear for the day, so that was one less thing he needed the hassle of handling. He carded his fingers through his hair. Phil still looked like a hunk, even with the bed-hair; had Stu walked around with bed-head, he'd look like a demented chipmunk. He scowled at the other teen, who smirked in return.

"Better luck next time, huh, buddy?" he winked and clapped the irked teen on the back as he passed to go up the stairs. Stu ground his teeth and followed after.

* * *

"This is some of the best food I've ever eaten, Blanca!" Phil called. "You're beautiful. As soon as I turn eighteen, I swear I'm going to marry you." Blanca's flustered and flattered Spanish murmurs could clearly be heard in the dinning room, and Phil smirked as he finished his _brunch_ as Alan had called it. He finally sat back, his stomach bloated. "So, what's next?"

"Swimming," Alan said instantly.

Phil rose a brow and so did Tracy.

"After last night, I don't know if that's such a good idea." She tried to let her brother down gentle.

"What?" he pouted.

"Yeah," Phil agreed. "Do you even know how to swim?"

Alan flushed in embarrassment. Not because the chastity belt or the stripping, but because Alan wanted to impress Phil and he'd had a humiliating moment of near-drowning last night. "I can-too swim!" he jumped to his feet. "You've seen all my metals. I wasn't ready, I told you that last night. I'll race you and prove it to you!"

It kind of got awkward-silent for a moment as the others were reminded of Alan's frightening past. Alan in-haled shakily (Tracy had told him that she was going to tell the others). But Phil ploughed ahead:

"Alright, you're on!" Phil rose and stood, challenge accepted.

After a short moment, Alan's down-cast expression split into a bright smile. "Okay!" and he skipped out of the dinning room and up the stairs to his bedroom to get changed.

Phil stood awkwardly now as the other three stared at him. "What?" he shrugged.

* * *

About a half-hour later, everyone was out at the deck, clad in their bathing suits, save for Alan.

Phil cupped his hands and called impatiently, "Alan, what the fuck's the hold-up!"

Tracy lounged in the in a chair by the poolside, sun bathing in a bikini, sunglasses perched on her nose. "He's very particular about this sort of thing. He's very excited. They didn't have a pool at the hospital."

"I'm here!" Alan came out the back of the house, skipping onto the deck in a pair of flip-flops, carrying an office box.

"Alan," Phil voiced, shocked. "Is that a Speedo?"

"I found my old one when I was looking for this other stuff." He came down to the pool. "Do you want to borrow one, Phil. You'll swim better."

"What? No, no. I'm okay, buddy." Borrow a suit from a guy was just fucking weird, especially a Speedo. He was fine with his trunks.

"Suit yourself, Phil." Alan rose his chin and flicked his bangs. He set the box down and dug through the contents. "You can be the ref., Stu." He handed something to the spectacled teen who was in trunks and a tee.

"Uh, sure, Alan." Stu took the stop watch and then a second one.

Alan stood up with a roll in his hands.

"What's that?" Doug questioned as he sat at the foot of Tracy's chair.

"It's ribbon to make lanes in the pool." Alan handed one end to Phil and it started to unravel as he walked to the other end of the pool. Phil sighed but went to the other end of the lengthy pool and tied the plastic ribbon off down the center of the pool. This had started off as fun, but now, as they stood at the start of either of their 'lanes' and Alan snapped his goggles on, it was turning into some serious shit. Phil narrowed his eyes in determination and took the offered pair of extra goggles that Alan offered him with a smirk. It kind of felt like he'd walked into a trap.

"Alright." Stu called, holding a stop watch in each hand and standing on the diving board platform. "Uh. On your marks, get set... GO!" Alan was kind enough to offer Stu his whistle, and it was shrill.

* * *

Alan gave him a huge smile as he treaded water. Phil looked back at him, still trying to get his breath back. How... the fuck? That kid could tread water. Phil was impressed. Alan had kicked his ass. Phil had thought there was minimal chance that he could win in a race against Alan, despite the redhead's weight gain and lack of swim training the last three years. It was like putting a fish back into water with the kid.

But, being the petulant child that he was, Phil splashed the other teen. Alan blinked at him in shock, but then his eyes turned playful and a full out war began. None was left unmolested by the tide—

Glowering at the two, Tracy pointed a strict finger at the shed near the large tree at the fence. "Be adults, play with the pool toys and leave me out of it!"

Phil rolled his eyes, but it wasn't something he was against, so he dragged Alan from the pool, and still wet, over to the shed. Alan unlocked it, and stepped inside.

"Aah!" Alan screamed and ran out. "There's a tiger in there!"

"What? Alan." Phil went into the shed and returned, holding a feline in his arms. "It's a tabby cat, not a tiger. Get a hold of yourself, man."

"Phew!" Alan gasped in relief, hand over his pounding heart. He chuckled. "That scared me for a minute."

Phil shook his head amused. "Yeah. I can see what scared you." He lightly scratched the cat's head and it started to purr under his ministrations. "Want to pet 'im?"

Alan had to think about it for a moment before he tentatively stepped forward and slowly reached out. That was when Carlos decided to join the gang. He wasn't too happy, or maybe he was excited, or thought the cat was some live-action expensive chew toy. He barked and the cat yowled, purring done and claws out.

"Jesus, fuck!" Phil shouted as the cat's claws dug into his bicep. Alan gave a cry and ran away as Carlos continued to bark and the cat tried to climb Phil's face. "Carlos, shut the fuck up!" he kicked at the dog, trying to keep his eyes in his face. "Alan! Alan!"

"Aah," Alan cringed but stopped and turn back.

"Alan, get Carlos!" he snapped at the teen.

Making some more uncomfortable noises, but determined, Alan took a deep breath and charged into the chaos in a Speedo and flip-flops. He grabbed Carlos' collar, giving it a jerk, commanded the dog firmly to "Cut it out,". Finally, Alan got the dog again and Phil manage to get the cat from his _face_ and tossed it away from him. It landed, hissing, at the base of the tree that Alan had climbed earlier that week to get away from Carlos, the cat had the same idea as Alan released the dog and Carlos bolted for the cat. It yowled and went screeching into the tree as Carlos jumped and barked at its base.

Alan and Phil looked at each other. "Cat's are stupid."

"Let's just grab some of this shit," Phil muttered, going back into the shed, but was in complete agreement. Fucking cats, last time he was nice to one of those bastards. Luckily, he wasn't bleeding.

They grabbed at the pool stuff from the shed and headed back to the pool.

"What took you so long?" Stu asked innocently.

Phil glared at him as he tossed the stuff into the pool... and then he shoved Stu in right along with it. Alan laughed next to him. Phil did a canon ball, hitting Stu with a splash as he came sputtering to the surface, and Alan ran across the diving board, rolling a starfish (what the fuck?).

* * *

"Alright, I think it's time to pack it in, guys!" Doug called. They'd already had an early supper (pizza), and the other three were already dressed, while Phil and Alan had petulantly decided to stay in the pool, only opting to swim as far as the edge to eat before marooning themselves in the water once more. "It's getting late." Phil and Alan booed him. "I'm driving Stu home and then you."

"I'll just spend the night!" Phil claimed.

"Yay!" Alan clapped happily.

"What do you mean, spend the night?" Tracy questioned, crossing her arms over her chest and staring down at him from the edge of the pool.

Phil shrugged, idly flicking water as he lounged back on the float-y. "I'll just stay the night. Tomorrow's Sunday, I can go home then. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Tracy scoffed. "You can't just invite yourself to stay!"

"It's not a big deal, Tracy!" Alan said. "Phil can stay if he wants."

Alan and Tracy had a brief glaring contest; him with resolve and her with suspicion. Finally, she exhaled heavily and agreed.

"You can stay the night, but you're gone by tomorrow afternoon, got it? This isn't a half-way house."

Alan hooted and the pair high-fived, or at least attempted to. Alan's clap was very much enthusiastic, and with the drift happening between their two floatation's—the redhead over-balanced, toppling into the water. Phil chuckled, but Alan resurfaced with a smile.

Tracy rolled her eyes and turned to Doug. "Do you and Stu want to stay another night as well, might as well if Phil invited himself over anyways."

Stu shook his head, already dressed from when they had pizza. "I need the day to recover, before dealing with the monkys on Monday." He felt more battered staying the night at the Garners than he did after trying out for the basketball team.

"Yeah." Doug nodded. "I have to drive him, and my parents want to go out for dinner tomorrow."

"Alright." She sighed. "I'll walk you out." He smiled and took her hand, kissing her cheek as they went onto the deck. "Behave while I'm gone!" she called back to the pair.

When she came back from the driveway, waving to Doug and Stu as they pulled out onto the road, she paused at the sliding door and watched the pair. Apparently, 'behaving' while she was away, meant a sword-fight with the pool noodles. She gave a small chuckle, but left them to it. She was happier than she could have been—she wasn't expecting such a instant connection with Alan and her boyfriend and his friends.

By the time that the sun finally set and the back lights had to come on to be able to see despite the pool's own lighting, Phil had transitioned from the pool to the hot tub as Alan took to laps. Phil had ulterior motives for inviting himself to spend a second night other than this place being more dope than his house, and Alan was definitely more cooler and funner than his two little sisters—he was going to get to the bottom of Alan's secrets.

* * *

"Cool room." Phil said, looking around. True to her word, Tracy had left them to their own devices. After several hours in the pool, he was pruned, but Alan seemed to be unaffected. The Garner son's room was a classic picture of a fourteen-year-old (being that was the last time Alan was actually in his own room), but one thing was missing, something that adorned his own walls at home. "What, no naked chicks on your walls?"

"Huh?" Alan spun in a circle, looking at a his walls for a moment that were in fact, covered all manner of heroes, most prominent—Aqua Man! That man was beautiful in the water! Before his eyes lit up with understanding. Alan knelt by the suitcase that he had shoved in the corner and opened the flap on the front and pulled out a magazine. "It's called contraband!" he proffered it proudly.

"It's a porn mag." Phil chuckled, taking it in-hand and flipping through the pages of naked busting babes. "I honestly didn't expect this from you." He tossed it onto the desktop, dusting his hands.

"I'm a teenage boy, Phil." And that was all that needed to be said.

"Yeah, but... what about that thing you were wearing? Before..."

"Do you know the things that happen in prison?"

"Yeah, but you weren't in prison."

Any of the child-wonder and innocence that always lighted Alan eyes vanished, and suddenly, he wasn't an eighteen-year-old who looked fifteen and acted twelve, but a grown man, one who had anything but a traditional childhood. It caught Phil completely off-guard.

"It was a prison." Alan whispered. He sat at the foot of his king-sized bed.

"Hey," Phil said softly, and sat on the edge of the bed beside Alan. He patted his back a little awkwardly. "You okay?"

He sniffed and nodded. "I never want to go back there, Phil."

"Yeah." He nodded. "It sucks that you had to go there in the first place."

They sat in silence for a few moments before Alan raised his head and asked tentatively, "Can I—can I tell you something, Phil? A secret?"

"Yeah. Sure, buddy. Of course." Phil agreed, anticipation making his heart race.

Alan twiddled his thumbs in his lap before taking a deep breath. Phil was his friend, his new best friend. There was just a deep trust and adoration there that was near instantaneous as it had been with his coach. "Leslie... Leslie isn't my girlfriend."

"Oh?" he raised a brow at that. Though he was preparing himself for... something, this certain hadn't been it. "So who is she?"

Alan chuckled and shook his head lightly. "Leslie isn't a girl, Phil! He's my old swim coach."

"Old swim coach..." Phil repeated. He certainly didn't expect Leslie to be a man, but it was an instant later that his brain caught up with the teen's end admission. "Mr. Chow?!" He shouted and jumped to his feet.

Alan blinked briefly at the shout before nodding a smiling. "You remember."

"Of course I remember, Alan!" he exclaimed. "What Tracy said, what that guy did to you—! And you were calling him? What the hell, Alan! He's a criminal and a pervert."

"He's not a pervert!" Alan protested instantly, indignantly. "He never touched me like that! He's my best-friend! He's the only who never shunned me for being different. He didn't just treat me like some kid. He trusted me."

"He _used_ you, Alan! Trust? He tricked you into smuggling illegal drugs in your body. You almost died!"

"People die every day, Phil!"

"Not like that, they don't."

"You don't know what you're talking about, you weren't there."

"I wasn't there, but it was bad enough that you had to be sent away to a mental hospital for three years after being in the hospital for a week!" Phil shook his head, "You can't call him, Alan."

Everyone kept telling him that. Dr. Hendrix, Tracy if she were ever to found out, and now Phil—who he had naively thought would see his side, support him. But even Chow was telling him not to call, not to visit. Alan just wanted his best-friend back! Why couldn't any of them see that? He'd been all but alone since he was sent away, Tracy though he loved her, it wasn't the same. And then, with Phil, he'd thought... He thought that he could trust Phil, but he'd clearly been wrong.

Alan stood up, his brow low beneath his bangs. He looked at Phil for a second before his mouth hardened and his boyish hurt disappeared behind the curtain.

"You're just like every buddy else. I thought you were different. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend, Alan." Phil said softly.

Alan shook his head. "You're Sméagol. You're just pretending to be my friend."

Phil's eyes widened in shock at the comparison (don't tell anyone he knew the reference). "That's not true, Alan. I came to your _sleepover_ —a fucking sleepover—because I wanted to be your friend. I like, you, alright?" he jerked his fingers through his hair uncomfortably, but pushed on. "You're weird and fun, and definitely not a kill-joy like Doug and Stu. Yes, it's cool that your family's loaded, but you're the one that's interesting _and_ smart."

Alan looked at him with wide-eyes. He mumbled, "No one's ever called me smart before."

"You are, Alan. Do you know how much weird shit you've sprouted out over the weekend—from the Discovery Channel. Who watches the Discovery Channel? Certainly not a teenager, but you do. It's fucking brilliant!"

Alan giggled and grinned. "Okay, you convinced me. You can stay."

Phil blinked. "You were going to kick me out? It's the middle of the night."

Alan shrugged. "Enemies aren't welcome. Friends are."

"So, you admit it? We're friends." He grinned, feeling like a complete sentimental Stu. Thank God there was only one witness (who was acting cooler than him. It was a weird feeling).

And then Alan turned back to his bed and started to yank off the blanket and sheets.

"What are you doing?" Phil wondered.

"Making a fort!"

"A fort..."

"Yeah, Phil. It's not a real sleepover until there's a fort."

Phil gave a long groan and sigh. And carded his fingers through his still damp hair and stepped forward—this was some seriously little-kid shit, just like he had told Stu. The last time he'd built a fort for a sleepover was before he hit puberty. But he was seventeen now—and he was loving every minute of it.

* * *

Phil woke sleepily the next morning, still enclosed in the dark space of the fort that he and Alan had built in the former's room the previous night. They must have fallen asleep. It took him a moment to fully register the arms around his waist and the warm breath against the back of his neck—and who exactly they belonged to (definitely NOT Stephanie).

"Alan, what the fuck?!" Phil exclaimed, shoving the other teen off of him, completely awake now, adrenaline shooting through his veins.

"Mm?" Alan rubbed his eyes sleepily. "Is it morning yet?"

"It's morning!" Phil burst from the fort, flustered, like a bear from a cat-carrier, tearing the entire thing down and erasing the previous night.

Alan just sat up and blinked, looking around, sleep-and-snuggle ruffled. "Is my virtue still intact?"

"What?" Phil spun to him. "Yes! You were the one spooning me!" he pointed an accusing finger.

Alan giggled as he stood. "You're like a snugly teddy-bear, almost as good as Jerry."

"Jerry?" Phil repeated before shaking his head as the other teen went across the room. "No. We will never talk about this ever again. Promise, Alan? Alan?"

"Can we seal it with a blood pact?" the eighteen-year-old turned from his desk with and open pocket-knife.

"Shit!" Phil managed to slap it out of his hand before he could bring the small blade down on the opposite palm of his hand. Both teens stared at the blade stuck into the carpet, the pocket-knife standing upright. "What the fuck, Alan?!"

"It's a promise," he explained. "It can't be upheld unless it's sealed."

Phil looked at him, his mind trying to catch up. Kid was just like his little sisters. "Jesus Christ," he mumbled. "Alright. Here," he stuck out his hand, his pinkie extended. "Pinkie-swear, and we never talk about this again. Or the fact that we pinkie-swore, got it?"

Alan grinned and eagerly wrapped his own pinkie around Phil's. He rose his other hand and extended that pinkie, too, waiting. "Double pinkie-swear."

Phil grumbled but locked that one up too, definitely just like his sisters. What the fuck was he getting himself into again? He shrugged Alan off. "I'm hungry, what's for breakfast?"

* * *

It was finally noon and Tracy was kicking Phil to the curb. He'd finally gotten the official tour of the Garner mansion (there was no other term for it) after another mouth-gasm breakfast courtesy of Blanca. And, God damn!

"Seriously, can your parents adopt me or something?" Phil said jokingly at the front step, bag slung over his shoulder. "You're definitely way cooler and funner than my little sisters—and you're loaded."

"I'll adopt you." Alan said earnestly.

"Alan," he laughed. "You're the best, you know that? Seriously. I'll see you at school, huh?" Maybe this last year won't suck as bad as he thought, he was sure there was never to be a dull moment with Alan around.

Alan smiled brightly. "Yeah. Bye, Phil." He waved to the other teen as he got into the taxi idling in the drive, and pulled out.

Alan took out his orange slide phone and switched his background pic from that of a giraffe 'hanging on' (get it?), to a pic he'd snapped of Phil while he was asleep in the den the previous morning, and his password a very catchy: _Hey Phil!_

 _" Hey, Phil. U there yet?" _he keyed into his phone and hit _send_ as he turned back inside.

His phone chirped a minute later with the reply of: " _Alan, wtf?!"_

 _[toodooloo, motherfuckers!]  
_ _[end]_

 **The** — **Hangover**

* * *

 **End Note: Well, this is finally the end of The Sleepover with its 3 Parts. I hope you enjoyed it and laughed. I had tricky fun writing it, which is a confusing feeling. Please review!**

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